


Maximum Velocity

by Starrie_Wolf



Series: Equilibrium Position [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: Academy student Kurosaki Ichigo, son of decorated retired captain Shiba Isshin and rebel Quincy princess Kurosaki Masaki, hates his time at school. Classes are boring, he’s forever stuck in his parents’ shadow, and worst of all, there's The Fanclub. It's by sheer dumb luck that he ends up in a remote corner of Academy Town, while ducking his stalkers, and spots a nondescript little store tucked into one of the corners.The first time Stealth Corps Third-in-Command Urahara Kisuke looks up to see the Shiba scion walking into the Special Ops command centre, cleverly disguised as a candy store, he nearly has a heart attack. He still might, because Ichigo keeps coming back, and he's hot as hell with a devil-may-care smirk but also a heart of gold.(He can't believe he hasAizento thank for getting them together. Can you send fruit baskets to Mugen?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The long-awaited prequel to Equilibrium Position, aka the story of how Kisuke and Ichigo met.

“Back again, Kurosaki-san?”

Raising a hand in greeting, Ichigo made a beeline for his usual seat.

He could hear the shopkeeper getting up from his seat behind the cashier counter, that damnable fan fluttering. “What shall it be today, fluid dynamics? Quantum mechanics?”

“Algebra,” Ichigo deadpanned.

He sneaked a glance up, and the befuddled look on Urahara’s face was just too hilarious to keep it in any more.

“Okay, okay, it’s actually trigonometry. Ōnabora-sensei wants us to calculate spell trajectories and maximum draw distances for the most common kidō spells.” Ichigo pulled out a few more textbooks, found his calculator, and dumped them all on the table, settling in for an afternoon of productivity.

Urahara Shōten had the dubious honour of being something like a candy store, although it only seemed to sell the sort of sweets one might expect in a traditional tea ceremony. It even had a small dining area, where customers could enjoy their purchases together with some tea. Best of all, the Shōten was tucked into a tiny alley a fair distance from the Academy, away from the entertainment and main dining districts, somewhere students would never frequent.

He heard the shōji doors to the inner room slide open, and a bowl of tea was deposited on the table, together with a tray of sweets. Ichigo couldn’t complain: the proprietor, Urahara Kisuke himself, might be as odd as the shop he ran – but he did whip up a mean matcha.

“Thanks,” he grunted, pencil tapping at his worksheet.

He could hear Urahara puttering around behind him, rearranging something on the shelves, and so he almost knocked the table over when a voice suddenly said directly into his ear, “It’s thirty degrees.”

“Gah!”

The feeling of hot breath against his ear made him shiver, but Ichigo hid it with a death glare at Urahara, turning his head just enough to see the shopkeeper. “Do you _mind_? I don’t want to get tea all over my papers!” But even as he complained, he was pulling the offending sheet closer, trying to double-check his working. What the _hell_ was Urahara talking about…

Urahara moved back a little, and Ichigo had to bite his tongue before he could whine at the loss. “You got one of the sine identities wrong,” he pointed out, as though he could read Ichigo’s mind.

Ichigo briefly wondered, not for the first time, if Urahara had telepathy. Maybe just _mild_ telepathy, not enough to get him picked up by one of the Gotei talent scouts, but enough in cases like this.

And then he dearly hoped not, because if there was a chance Urahara had picked up on more than that – say, Ichigo’s _very vivid and constant fantasies about him_ … well, he was pretty sure Urahara hadn’t, because the blond had never looked at him differently, never choked or spluttered or turned pink during the times they touched.

And _oh_ , did Ichigo remember every single one of those touches, like brands upon his skin.

He realised that he was scrubbing away way too hard at the offensive mistake with his eraser, and stopped. “Eurgh,” he muttered, though he _was_ actually thankful for the reminder. “That took you, what, five _seconds_?”

Urahara lifted one shoulder up in an expressive shrug, going back to his shelving. “I like Mathematics.”

 _Well_. If one was the sole owner of a business, Ichigo supposed that he had to be pretty good at accounting and other mathematical stuff, even if he couldn’t figure out what trigonometry had to do with finances.

Or why his samue had to be so – _urgh_. So _low-cut_! Seriously, Ichigo spent way too long watching his torso, as one would a train wreck, wondering if today was the moment the samue would succumb to gravity and just… slip off those broad shoulders.

“Kurosaki-san, what has your pencil done to offend you?”

Right. Ichigo relaxed his death-grip before his pencil broke – again. He was going to run out of pencils at this rate, and it was all going to be Urahara Kisuke’s fault.

(He wouldn’t have it any other way.)

~*~*~*~*~

It had been a true act of serendipity.

It was his first week at the Academy, and Ichigo was sick and tired of everything already. When teachers looked at him, they only ever saw his brightly-coloured hair, his family name, or his father’s name. When other students looked at him, they only ever saw either an eligible bachelor, or a rival to crush underfoot.

He just wanted to be left alone to graduate in peace, but that was looking less and less possible. Things had gotten so bad, he couldn’t even buy toilet paper without someone from either that accursed _fanclub_ or one of the gangs stalking him!

Like, seriously? _Toilet paper_?

He’d taken a wrong turn, fleeing from some really persistent pursuers, and had found himself in a tiny dead-end street. Left with no recourse, Ichigo gritted his teeth, pushing into the shop at the very end of the alley. He remembered hovering nervously by the doorway, half-hidden by the shelves, hoping beyond hope that they hadn’t spotted him coming in.

“Welcome to Urahara Shōten, may I help you?”

“Shhh!” he had hissed.

Instead of chasing him out with a broom, Urahara had played along, and then offered him sanctuary from all the drama. Ichigo could have kissed him.

Thinking back, maybe he should have.

One visit became two, weekly visits became almost daily, and now that he was in his final year, daily visits to the shop had long since become a part of his routine. And he hadn’t planned it to be that way, hadn’t planned it at all, but some time in-between his second and third years at the Academy his libido had started gleefully reminding him that he was demisexual, not dead. Especially if Urahara kept brushing up against him – like! That!

Sometimes, spending time at the shop was an exercise in self-control.

People might mock him for his blunt manner, but Ichigo wasn’t an _idiot_ , all right? Urahara might be a shopkeeper in Academy Town, but he was for all intents and purposes a civilian. On the other hand, Ichigo’s Talent ranking was through the roof; he was practically _born_ and raised to head one of the Gotei divisions. His old man had gotten involved with a civilian and it had worked out fine, but what were the chances of _that_ happening twice in a row?

The Gotei were the international police, the ones who had to deal with the worst of the criminals – those with powers that the normal police couldn’t handle. That meant long working hours and censoring oneself at every turn and worst, a risk of having significant others kidnapped, especially if one was a captain. Most civilians didn’t like that in a relationship.

Kurosaki Masaki had been _special_.

He wasn’t ready to find out whether Urahara Kisuke was.

~*~*~*~*~

“Quick, hide me!”

Urahara blinked in befuddlement, but Ichigo had no time to explain, diving under the cashier counter and praying that he was fast enough. He yanked on Urahara’s chair, trying to get the shopkeeper to scoot forwards to hide him better, but even with all his training Ichigo wasn’t strong enough to make it budge. Maybe it was the angle he was pulling at.

“ _Help_ ,” he hissed.

As though on cue, pounding footsteps were audible right outside the shop. Ichigo shut his mouth, curling under the counter like he was trying to ward off a physical blow. He could only hope Urahara was happy to play along.

“May I help you?”

“Yes!” There was some more giggling from the gaggle of girls, and the sound of them shoving at each other before one of them said, “We’re looking for an orange-haired man, did he pass through here?”

_Come on, Urahara._

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone like that.” There was the snap of a fan opening, but Urahara’s voice was just as light and breezy as ever.

Ichigo breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sound of their disappointment.

Now that he wasn’t in immediate danger, though, he couldn’t help but notice the position he was currently in. In order to fit all of him under the counter, with Urahara’s chair still in the way, he was practically buried between Urahara’s legs.

Maybe he should have thought this through a little better. Or, at the very least, found a position where he didn’t have his palms splayed over Urahara’s thighs, or his head pillowed on said thighs – but, wow, for a simple shopkeeper Urahara was really packing some serious muscle definition under those flowing clothes. He’d never have guessed.

Wait.

Wait, what was he – crap.

Ichigo forced his hands to freeze, to stop practically petting Urahara’s thighs.

He breathed in deeply, trying to calm his stupid overexcited hormones down, but – god, that was such a mistake. In his current position all he could smell was the man’s deep musky scent, which Ichigo tried not to think about, because then he’d have to consider exactly where his nose was at the moment, and how – if he’d just shift up a little – his face could be buried in Urahara’s crotch.

His cock twitched. He could die of shame.

And those girls were _still there_.

Ichigo bit down so hard on his bottom lip that he could taste blood, but the pain grounded him, kept him from doing anything stupid. Well, more stupid.

Great, now his leg was going numb. He shifted a little bit, trying to get the pins-and-needles feeling out of that leg, and nearly choked when even that tiny movement gave his cock some much-desired friction.

He was _so_ hard.

_Fuck._

His belly was a squirming pit of butterflies, and he almost couldn’t find it in himself to care, to remember why exactly it would be a bad idea to reach down, to take himself in hand and _squeeze_.

“They’re gone, Kurosaki-san.”

His relieved sigh sounded a little too much like a moan for his tastes.

Ichigo staggered upright, nearly toppling over before he could catch himself. “Going to use your bathroom,” he said stiffly, and hoped his face wasn’t as red as he thought it was.

He almost ran into the door, stumbling into the first cubicle he could see, praying that Urahara hadn’t followed him – that Urahara hadn’t noticed; or if he had, to please pretend it never happened, or Ichigo might never be able to face him again.

The sound of his belt coming undone was obscenely loud in the relative silence. Ichigo winced.

His cock hadn’t gotten the memo, though, judging by the growing wet patch in his underwear, the way it was still straining for release.

Ichigo bit his lip, and wrapped a hand around it.

He slapped his other hand over his mouth, barely muffling the shocked moan before it could escape. His body was on _fire_. It… it didn’t normally feel so good, not even when he was in the shower late at night, idly wondering if Urahara was in bed yet, if Ichigo could sneak out and maybe slip into his bed, and maybe Urahara would _let him_ –

“K- _Kisuke_ ,” he hissed, between gritted teeth, vision fairly whiting out as he came.

His hands shook as he tucked himself back in, doing a cursory survey to make sure he hadn’t left any evidence outside the toilet bowl.

Oh god. How the hell was he supposed to face Urahara after this?

~*~*~*~*~

There was a long silence after Ichigo stalked awkwardly into the interior of the shop.

A black cat landed on the counter.

“ _My_ , Kisuke,” she said, fanning the air with a paw.

Kisuke resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t you start, Yoruichi-san.”

The cat blinked large, voluminous golden eyes at him, as though she didn’t understand him. “Both of you _reek_ ,” she muttered, fanning faster.

“It’s just teenage hormones.”

Yoruichi barked out a laugh, which was a ridiculous sound coming from a cat. “He’s twenty-two,” she retorted. “Are you kidding me? All those girls and boys chasing him, and he’s running for the hills, but ten minutes in your lap and he’s practically creaming his pants?”

He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Now you’re just exaggerating, Yoruichi-san.”

“Am I?” The cat scoffed. “He’s so hard he was _leaking_ precome, I could smell it from across the room; if you’d just moved your calf in the right direction, given him just a little bit of friction, he’d probably have come on the spot.”

Kisuke shook his head and rubbed at his forehead, slamming the door shut on his libido, because this certainly wasn’t the right time. He could think about that later.

Preferably in the shower, when he could let his mind drift, the scene altered to delete those annoying fangirls, where it was just him, sitting there, and Ichigo’s head buried in his lap. They’d both be naked, of course, no fabric in the way to dampen the way Ichigo’s breath came hot and quickening against his thigh, where Kisuke wouldn’t have needed to spend every single ounce of his iron will to strangle his erection before it could rise.

Ichigo’s eyes fixed on the slight bulge in his pants, unconsciously wetting his lips, was the most erotic thing he’d seen in a long time. Maybe fantasy Ichigo wouldn’t just be content with looking, maybe he’d like a little taste, too, his tongue darting out playfully to lap at Kisuke’s cock, one hand dropping between his own legs to squeeze at his length.

He’d run his fingers through fantasy Ichigo’s hair, maybe tug at the orange spikes a little, and maybe Ichigo would be into that: maybe he’ll gasp as his length _throbs_ against Kisuke’s thigh, hips giving an aborted twitch.

Claws dug into his leg, and Kisuke yelped.

“Seriously?” the cat growled. “ _I can smell you_.”

“Why are you still here?” He wasn’t above being petty. “Don’t you have a division to terrorise?”

“Suì-Fēng’s got it well in hand,” she dismissed easily. “Besides, this is far more interesting. He looked – and smelled – like he was going to blow you right there, the fanclub be damned.”

Fine. Fine, if she was going to play it that way.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Kisuke burst out, but she was unfazed.

“Well, you _can_ be a little oblivious sometimes, you know?” She even sounded reasonable, damn it. “Totally missed the fact that Shinji was panting after you for, like, half of your first year?”

Was _nobody_ going to ever let him live that down? Even Shinji found it hilarious nowadays, for heaven’s sake!

“Yoruichi-san, he doesn’t even know _who I really am_!”

There was a long, thoughtful silence.

“He’ll forgive you,” the cat said, but she could tell the conversation was over.

“I don’t want to do anything he’d have to forgive me for in the first place,” Kisuke said hotly, and then belatedly realised he’d said too much.

“Kisuke, I was suggesting you sleep with him, not _marry_ him –” the cat’s eyes widened, and there was a sudden poof of smoke and a woman was suddenly perched on the counter, leaning so far forwards that she was practically on top of him. “Kisuke, have you _fallen for him_?!”

“If I say yes, will you leave it well alone?” He cast an eye at his still-closed door. Ichigo should be done soon – even accounting for the fact that he definitely didn’t go in there to pee.

Yoruichi followed his gaze, and the wide, gleeful grin on her face didn’t bode well for his future. “This conversation’s not over,” she warned, turning back into a cat with another puff of smoke, trotting out of the shop with her tail held high.

“Stupid meddling cats,” Kisuke muttered, but he was smiling.

~*~*~*~*~

Of course, the moment Ichigo came out of the bathroom, he grabbed his bag and bolted like the hounds of hell were dogging his steps.

Kisuke sighed and returned his attention to the surveillance tapes.

So much for progress.


	2. Chapter 2

Ichigo clutched a grocery bag in his hands, so tight his knuckles were probably turning white, but he could hardly care.

A few minutes ago, he’d seen some suspicious-looking thugs ducking into an alley, so he’d followed them in and kicked the crap out of them, of course. But it wasn’t the fight (boringly easy) that bothered him. It was what he got off the radios they’d been holding.

 _Spread out_ , the earpiece had announced, crackling a little in his hand. _Aizen-taichō wants the whole place secured in an hour, before he goes to Yamamoto with his ransom demands._

Aizen... as in Aizen Sōsuke, the captain of the Fifth Division? And he’s holding the whole of Academy Town hostage??

 _Barriers_ , he thought. _There must be barriers going up around town._

And then, _Kisuke_.

~*~

“Kurosaki-kun!” He turned out of the alley to see Inoue, Chad and Ishida coming down the street. Right. He’d told them he was going shopping tonight, and they must’ve gotten worried when he wasn’t back in the dorms by curfew.

“Shhhh!” he hissed, dragging them aside and briefing them on the situation.

His friends were an odd bunch, he could admit. Inoue was... well, technically, she was a member of his fanclub, but she wasn’t as stalker-ish or deluded as most of them were, which was the only reason why he tolerated her. Ishida was his Quincy-assigned bodyguard, but neither of them could stand each other so they both pretended not to have known each other since they were in diapers. Chad was a recent immigrant from Mexico, who didn’t speak much Japanese but could understand it fine, so he preferred to stay silent.

“Only you, Kurosaki.” Ishida shoved his glasses up his nose, pulling out the collapsible crossbow he kept around his neck. “Let’s go get your crush.”

Ichigo felt his ears go completely red, but he didn’t contradict Ishida.

They ducked another patrol of thugs, bursting into Urahara Shōten with a clatter. Despite the urgency of the situation, Ichigo still felt his heart swoop in his chest when he saw Urahara behind the counter, his head coming up in surprise at their rowdy entrance.

“Come on,” Ichigo urged, grabbing him by the arm. Any other time, he would be overjoyed at the physical contact – damn, he never knew that under all those voluminous sleeves, Urahara had _really nice_ biceps, though he shouldn’t have been surprised given those... muscular thighs... he’d felt the other day –

_FOCUS, ICHIGO._

“What?” Urahara demanded, standing his ground with surprising force. It was a very inappropriate turn-on that Ichigo would like to explore another time, preferably away from here, just _move_ it, damn it.

“You need to come with us,” he very nearly begged, yanking on Urahara’s arm again. “we don’t have time to explain, will you trust me –”

Urahara blinked furiously, and Ichigo could see him wavering, and he tugged again –

A black blur careened into the shop, bounding onto the counter.

“Kisuke,” it said.

Ichigo nearly let go in shock.

“Did the cat just _talk_?” demanded Ishida.

Amidst the dull uproar from his friends, Ichigo only had eyes for Urahara, who had relaxed imperceptibly the moment the cat had appeared.

Urahara squeezed his shoulder, just a gentle application of pressure. “Just a moment,” he murmured.

Ichigo was too stunned to move anyway.

“Aizen’s gone rogue.” Between one step and the next the black cat melted seamlessly into the form of a woman with olive skin and long purple hair falling way past her waist, a face Ichigo _recognised_ on sight from the official Gotei captain roster.

“Seireitei has declared a state of emergency,” said Shihōin Yoruichi, Captain of the Second Division, folding her arms across her chest. “Information control has been temporarily disabled. Third Seat Urahara, you may speak freely.”

Urahara looked at her for a moment, just _looked_.

Ichigo backed away a step, looking from her to him, and then back again. “Third Seat?” he asked. His voice came out fainter than he thought it would.

Urahara closed his eyes, and it was as good a confession as any.

“Sitrep.” His voice was crisp and quiet, all semblance of verbal tic gone. Ichigo wanted to scream. Was _that_ a lie too?

Was everything a lie?

“Thirty minutes ago, Fifth Division captain Aizen Sōsuke went rogue, placing an impenetrable forbidden kidō around the entire of Academy Town to hold all students and staff hostage. Kidō Corps are on scene, but the casting language isn’t Japanese. They’re unlikely to break through before the deadline. As far as I know, I’m the only one made it through.” Yoruichi sighed, leaning against the shelf. “He wants the Captain-General. And _you_.”

“Me?” Urahara jerked his head over to face her. “I don’t swing that way.”

Ichigo could’ve sworn he felt his heart stop. So. That answered the question of whether Urahara could ever like him back, he supposed.

Yoruichi blinked, looking actually flummoxed for a moment. “You… aren’t into men?”

“Not megalomaniacs,” Urahara clarified. “Delusions of grandeur aren’t attractive.”

It was ridiculous. _He_ was being ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel this way, but there were tiny wingbeats of hope fluttering in his chest.

“Ah.” Yoruichi made a noise of enlightenment. “But I don’t think Aizen Sōsuke wants your body, I think he wants you because you’re the Gotei’s Spymaster.”

Urahara actually made a moue of distaste at that.

“That’s… even worse.” He shook his head, fan fluttering. “What do you want from me, Yoruichi-san?”

Yoruichi arched one fine eyebrow at him. “Plan?”

“What makes you think I have a plan for a captain going rogue?” Urahara retorted, but it was apparently rhetorical, as he was already moving into the backroom of the shop.

Ichigo exchanged a glance with the rest of his friends before he followed suit, just in time to see Urahara flicking his fingers in a strange little wave at the lamp fixture. A panel that had been completely invisible before that moment slid aside, revealing a series of tiny levers. Urahara twitched his fingers again, and the levers clicked up and down, like someone was pressing them.

He couldn’t help it. “Telekinesis?” he burst out.

Urahara flicked him a look, there and gone again, and if there was any expression on his face Ichigo couldn’t read it.

“Puppetry,” Yoruichi said, just as a section of the wall split apart, revealing spiral stairs leading downwards.

“Mind your step,” Urahara warned, conjuring a mage-light with a snap of his fingers and leading the way down.

 _Third Seat_ , Ichigo had to remind himself.

They emerged into an expansive space that was, if Ichigo could hazard a guess, at least several times the size of the shop. Urahara was already halfway across the cavern, hurrying towards the bank of screens lined against the wall, at the kind of shunpo speeds his classmates couldn’t hope to match.

Ichigo’s knee-jerk reaction was to look away, but well –

Information control was disabled, anyway?

They weren’t just screens, he realised as he got closer. There were keyboards scattered everywhere, wires trailing over the floor, code scrolling over several of the screens even as others flashed footage from surveillance cameras and what looked like mission reports.

Ichigo swallowed.

Right.

Somehow, seeing all this made it more real, drove home the point that Urahara Kisuke was, against all odds, really a Gotei officer.

Urahara was already typing away, hands flying over the keyboards – multiple keyboards, Ichigo realised, his fingers clicking away with none of the insecurity Ichigo saw in his own classmates who had similar talents. Definitely, none of them could juggle six keyboards at the same time, and yet Urahara was doing it like he did that _everyday_.

“This is Control. Agents, come in.”

On the screens, people looked up, or put their phones away, or switched their music off.

“Gotei has issued a Code Red. All missions below S rank are now on hold. All agents able to exfil are to stand by awaiting further orders. Control is away from keyboard. I repeat, Control is away from keyboard. You are now operating without overwatch.”

There was no audible response. One by one, the agents began changing directions, or opening their laptops, or walking back into their hotels.

Gradually, the furious click of keys slowed, until it completely stopped. Urahara breathed out a harsh sigh, rocking back on his heels.

“They’ll be fine, Kisuke.” Yoruichi gripped his arm briefly, a gesture of comfort if he’d seen one. Ichigo wanted, _ached_ to do the same, but he honestly didn’t know where they stood, if he’d be welcome right now.

“This way.” Urahara gestured again, and a section of the floor slid open, revealing a tunnel. “This leads to the Academy, comes out in the basement by the statue of Kuchiki Ginrei. Yoruichi-san, I’m sure the Academy has been alerted to the situation by now. They’ll need someone to organise the defences.”

Ichigo was the last of his friends to duck into the tunnel, and he couldn’t help but look back. Urahara’s back was to him, but Ichigo didn’t need to see his face to guess at his mood; the slumped shoulders and the way he was leaning on the cane gave everything away loud and clear.

With a wave of his hand, plugs started pulling themselves out of sockets, assemblies began deconstructing, and the screens began switching off, one by one, like a silent countdown.

Ichigo caught sight of Urahara’s shuttered gaze in one of the blank monitor screens.

He turned away silently and followed the rest of them to the Academy.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Even dressed in clothes far too big for her, Yoruichi cut an imposing figure, one that the Academy teachers were only too happy to obey.

“Not you four,” she said when Ichigo made to join the rest of the combat specialist students, who were tasked to guard the obvious entrances to the school.

If Aizen was going to take them hostage, they weren’t going down without a fight.

“Inoue Orihime, was it?” she asked bluntly, the moment they were all safely ensconced in one of the empty offices. One of the Academy teachers had given her a student list, and she was scanning down the list, apparently looking for something.

“Yes m’am.” Inoue’s voice trembled a little, but she stood firm.

Ichigo frowned. Inoue was training for Support Corps, he remembered, so he wasn’t sure why Yoruichi had singled her out.

“It says here that your specialty is barriers?” Yoruichi asked, and suddenly Ichigo understood what she wanted.

“ _Creating_ them,” he emphasised.

Yoruichi waved the objection aside. “If you can construct them, you can _deconstruct_ them, can you not?”

Her gaze was firm, but not pleading, and Ichigo watched with interest as Inoue stood up a little straighter under it. “I can… I can try,” she said softly.

Yoruichi nodded like that was all she ever wanted from Inoue.

“And you, Ishida Uryū. You’re a Quincy, aren’t you?” she asked bluntly.

Ishida gritted his teeth, but he held his head high. “Yes.”

Well, they weren’t exactly hiding it, Ichigo supposed.

“Good.” Yoruichi smiled, and it was all _teeth_. “The Kidō Corps could use a hand in decomposing the barrier, if you’re up for it.”

Phrased like that, Ichigo could tell that Ishida was going to accept it even before he did, his glasses glinting.

Yoruichi looked over at Chad last. “It says here that you’re a power fighter with a strong defence.” She tapped at the clipboard. “Will you help defend them as they work to take the barrier down?”

“I will,” Chad agreed.

“Then it’s settled.” Yoruichi set the clipboard to the side. “Go get some rest, we’ll leave an hour past midnight.”

The other three filed out of the room, throwing concerned looks at Ichigo as they went.

 _Do you want us to wait?_ Ishida’s scowl asked.

Ichigo shook his head. They needed their rest, if they were setting off in – he checked his watch. Four hours. She probably had a different assignment in mind for him anyway; his talent manifested in a way that there were a lot of applications, depending what she wanted him for.

 _Superhuman learning curve_ looked weird on a form, but it had its uses.

Instead of a briefing, though, she crossed her legs on the table and asked casually, “So, what are your intentions towards Kisuke?”

“… _huh_?”

Yoruichi twirled a hand in the air, as if to say, _get over it already_. “Cut the oblivious act, it’s not cute. I’ve known Kisuke for a long time, but I’ve _never_ seen him act the way he does with you.”

Ichigo stared at her, but his silence didn’t seem to be a deterrent.

“He’s been waiting for somebody like you his whole life, you know,” she said conversationally, as though she wasn’t dropping the equivalent of bombs everywhere. “Somebody who can keep up with him, who can watch his back, and trust him to watch theirs in turn.” She turns serious. “His job… well, I’m sure you’ve already been lectured enough about dating a civilian, but being the Chief Intelligence Officer’s as bad as a captain. There’s tons of people who want to get their grubby hands on him – or someone close to him, as a hostage. Like today.”

She sighed.

“His job’s okay for picking up, but not really conducive to dating, not when he can’t tell the other person who he is, or even warn them that they might be a target.”

Ichigo was still sort of stuck on the ‘picking up’ bit. “Does he… do that, often?”

Yoruichi blinked at him. “Well, Kisuke _likes_ sex, so probably occasionally, but most of the time he’d prefer his toys. He says they’re less of a hassle but still gives him orgasms. Get him to introduce you to his toy collection next time.”

“What else can I tell you… well, he’s _really into_ foreplay; sometimes you’d have to remind him to get on with the actual programme if you want to get fucked; if you don’t, well, then that’s great for both of you. He’s okay being on either end of the penetration, though he’s a pretty bossy bottom, just to warn you. Just be vocal about it – if he does something you like, let him know; if you want him to stop, tell him; or you could just kick him off the bed, that works too.”

Ichigo had never been so glad to hear the sound of the door opening; he was sure his face would never go back to its original colour again. He turned around, wondering who it was – maybe Ishida had waited after all, and came in to see why he was taking so long? – but no, of course it had to be Urahara.

His stomach did a complicated flip-flop at the sight of the blond.

He wanted… he wanted to brush that lock of hair away from his face, to cuddle Urahara until the hollow look in his eyes was gone, to shove him up against a wall –

“Really now Kisuke, I know your brain short-circuits every time you’re around Ichigo, but just remember, I’m still in the room, eh?”

Ichigo thought Urahara couldn’t look more attractive, but the cute rosy flush to the blond’s cheeks was proving him wrong. Of course, he was probably resembling a boiled lobster himself, so maybe he shouldn’t be pointing fingers.

“He likes to be bent over the counter,” Yoruichi continued, sotto voce, “or to bend you over the counter, he’s not picky.”

The pink was giving way to bright red now.

“ _Y-yoruichi-san_!”

He darted a look at Ichigo, eyes flickering away almost immediately, like he was almost…

Afraid.

And that was such a _wrong_ look on him that Ichigo found himself moving forwards instinctively, putting a hand on Urahara’s arm, until he had no choice but to _look_ at Ichigo.

“I’m not an idiot, you know. I’m here, like, all the time – you don’t get any customers, so you can’t possibly be covering your store rental fees with the merchandise on display. I figured you were either with the Gotei, with the mob, or you’re sucking someone’s cock. And man, am I glad it’s not the last one.”

Ichigo grinned a little at the startled look on Urahara’s face, at the disbelief warring with tentative hope.

“I just wasn’t expecting a _Third Seat_ , that’s all. And Covert Corps too – I thought you guys were, like, out on missions all the time.”

“Agents do need handlers,” interjected Yoruichi, and when Ichigo glanced over he could see her grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Urahara ducked his head, but the faint smile on his lips was still the sweetest thing Ichigo had seen.

Yoruichi stopped laughing.

Surprised, Ichigo looked back at her, but there was no trace of mirth upon her face.

“You came in for a reason,” she said, decisively. “What is it, Kisuke?”

“Kuchiki Rukia is missing.” Urahara’s fan was nowhere to be seen, and he looked oddly naked without it; naked and vulnerable. “We have reason to believe Aizen has her.”

Yoruichi cursed, her ponytail swishing to the side. “He’s going to try to pressure Byakuya-bō directly.” The way she put it, it was more fact than guess, but Ichigo didn’t doubt she was correct.

Urahara’s gaze was distant.

Rukia might not have been a friend, not like Ishida or Chad or Inoue, but he did know her well enough. Captain or not, there was no way she would have let herself be taken without a fight.

He wondered how many teeth marks Aizen would be bearing on his arm.

“We have to get her out.”

“ _We_?” challenged Yoruichi.

Ichigo met her gaze. “Rukia’s a classmate of ours,” he argued. “I’m going for her.”

“And what makes you think that _you_ , a mere Academy student, can get the upper hand on Aizen?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ichigo dismissed. “I’ll just have to defeat him.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Yoruichi countered, her eyes sparking. “We cannot afford to give Aizen _another_ valuable hostage.”

“I don’t _care_ –” Ichigo began hotly, but a hand on his shoulder made him pause, surprised.

“I’ll go with him.”

Ichigo’s head snapped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “Urahara-san,” he breathed.

Urahara kept the hand on his shoulder. “That should be fine then, shouldn’t it, Yoruichi-san?”

Yoruichi pursed her lips, hopping off the desk and coming uncomfortably close for Ichigo’s tastes. “Is that your head talking or your dick, Kisuke?”

The hand still on his shoulder suddenly clamped down, like a vise. “You’re out of line,” Urahara growled, grey eyes flashing.

Yoruichi didn’t back down. “Am I?” she demanded. “Because if you fail – you’d be delivering yourself _and_ the Shiba scion to Aizen on a silver platter. Alone, you might be able to pull it off, but no matter how good he is, an Academy student is still going to be deadweight.”

Strangely enough, Urahara cracked a grin. “That’s because you haven’t seen him in action yet.” He looked over at Ichigo, and there was _warmth_ in his gaze, like they were sharing a private joke. “You’ve already mastered it, haven’t you?”

Ichigo stared back, wondering how Urahara knew, but – there was no sense in hiding it, not now. “Yeah,” he admitted.

It was Yoruichi’s turn to gape, a scant moment before she burst out laughing. “Superhuman learning curve – applies even to itself, huh?”

Ichigo shrugged, because he supposed that was true. It wasn’t like he could control it, or even direct it, though people have _tried_ … but still, how did Urahara guess?

“You’ve never needed instruction on the same topic twice.”

Okay. “Okay.” He pointed a finger at Urahara. Time for some answers. “ _Do_ you have telepathy?!” he demanded. He’d seen the full-control puppetry at work just now, but it wasn’t unheard of to manifest two talents – although they’d usually present in similar branches of the same talent, and most of them would be too weak to qualify for Gotei admission.

Urahara shook his head, smiling. “Genius-level intellect,” he explained. “It’s written all over your face to me, Kurosaki-san.”

That just wouldn’t do.

“Ichigo,” he insisted. “If we’re going to be dating, you should call me Ichigo.”

It was well worth the smile that bloomed across Urahara – across _Kisuke’s_ face.

“Right.” Yoruichi sashayed towards a door, far too slowly for it to be called ‘running away’, but it couldn’t be anything else. “I’ll leave the two of you to discuss the details, then.”

The door slammed shut behind her.

Kisuke was left blinking at the office door, which Ichigo _totally_ understood. Yoruichi-taichō was a little bit like a whirlwind.

“Is she always like that?”

“Er,” Kisuke said, refocusing rapidly. “Yes?”

“Great.” Ichigo wet his lips, suddenly unsure, but the way Kisuke was staring at his mouth made him bold enough to surge forwards, to grab Kisuke and slot their mouths together, the way he’d wanted to since he was nineteen and just another fresh face at the Academy.

The kiss was kind of awkward, a little too much teeth clicking, and he might have almost accidentally bitten Kisuke’s tongue – but then there was a palm against his cheek, gently tilting – and suddenly it was a lot better, warm and wet and a tongue rubbing suggestively against his, coaxing him to explore the older man’s mouth in return –

– he was backed up against the wall, but it was a blur how he got there, leg hiked up embarrassingly over Kisuke’s hip, that firm thigh he’d been wanking to nudging between his legs, and he was sort of shamelessly riding it, the heat in his belly coiling and surging as Kisuke’s mouth blazed fiery trails over his neck.

“I’m not sure I would consider _this_ a ‘discussion’.”

Ichigo _squeaked_ , trying to squirm away, but Kisuke didn’t let up from where he had him pinned against the wall. At least he had stopped his ministrations on Ichigo’s neck, though his libido and his brain were at odds as to whether that was a good thing or not.

“It’s called communicating via body language. May I help you, Yoruichi-san?”

Kisuke certainly wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed at all, judging by the erection poking Ichigo in the abdomen and the way Kisuke was keeping his leg in place.

“Yeah, well.” Yoruichi waved a hand impatiently. “ _Unconventional battle tactics_ aside, I figured I better show you something before you leave. Watch carefully, Ichigo –”

And she _moved_.

“Got it?”

Ichigo hardly noticed when Kisuke let him go, but he _did_ realise he could… hmm. Coil up his reiatsu, focus it at the ball of his foot –

– and take a single step.

Yoruichi beamed like a cat with a full saucer of milk.


	3. Chapter 3

He knew he should be focusing on the mission, but damn it, he couldn’t get that kiss out of his _mind_.

Ichigo checked his watch again, and then caught Kisuke by the shoulder before he could step out of the door. They were taking a side route from one of the secret passageways, because Aizen was every bit a megalomaniac as expected, and had set up headquarters in the Academy’s front courtyard. The only way to approach safely, avoiding the bulk of the guards, was to do it from a different angle.

“Ichigo-san?”

“ _No_ ,” Ichigo snapped, taking a step closer. “Drop the damned honorific.”

Their second kiss was somehow even better than the first, now that Ichigo had the presence of mind to appreciate it.

Kisuke broke the kiss first, panting.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

Ichigo snarled and flipped them around, grinding their hips together. There was a vicious sort of pleasure bubbling in his gut when he could _feel_ that Kisuke was as hard as he was. “Why?” he demanded. “Is it because I’m too young? Too inexperienced? Because I haven’t graduated yet? Because fuck that, and fuck you too –”

He would have said more, but there was a tongue in his mouth, and, well, it was very distracting.

Kisuke pulled back, and he looked amused, of all things. Amused, and exasperated. “Let me finish, Ichigo.”

Ichigo shut his mouth with a click.

“Because I don’t want our first time to be a frantic coupling up against a wall of dubious cleanliness, in the middle of the damned _school_ , while besieged by a traitorous captain of all things. Unless you have objections to that?”

Uh.

Well, when he put it like _that_.

“I had fond memories of my time here,” Kisuke added, tone dust dry, “but they weren’t _that_ fond.”

Ichigo scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to will down his very inconvenient erection. “You’re giving me blue balls at this rate,” he complained, though he didn’t really mean it.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” Kisuke promised.

Ichigo shivered, both at the anticipation and the predatory look in his eyes. It was a really good look on Kisuke.

To distract himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets, deliberately staring the other way as he opened the door. “So, what’s the plan?”

He could almost hear Kisuke’s pause. “Were you… not listening earlier?”

Ichigo was torn between being embarrassed, and being exasperated. “Yes, but maybe I just want to listen to your voice?”

“Oh. Well.” Kisuke audibly shook himself, evidently choosing not to linger on that. “According to reports from the combat specialist students, Aizen has the front entrances of the Academy well-secured, but the back less so. Therefore, we will sneak out the back, go around the buildings, and make our way to where Kuchiki-san is being held.”

That was _way_ shorter than the original briefing he gave, back in the office, but Ichigo appreciated the effort, and was just about to tell Kisuke that –

Kisuke held up a hand.

 _Wait_ , he flashed a hand signal. _Guards._

Ichigo didn’t hear anything for a moment, but then… yeah, yeah those were the sounds of footsteps all right, coming down the adjacent street up ahead.

 _Wait here_ , Kisuke signalled again, waiting until Ichigo nodded. He dropped onto his knees in a way that gave Ichigo _very inappropriate_ associations, inching forwards. That put him at the perfect height to hide in the pools of shadow here and there, cast by the occasional decorative statue.

Ichigo would have liked to follow, of course, but even his learning curve had physical limitations – sure, at a glance he could learn how to do it in theory, but he couldn’t just _will_ his footsteps into silence. He’d just give them away to the guards if he tried.

His gaze dipped lower. The view from behind was a bonus, if he had to say.

There was a scuffling noise.

Up ahead, the guards paused.

Kisuke froze. Slowly, very slowly, he eased himself onto his haunches, freeing his hands.

Ichigo’s eyes darted around. That noise didn’t sound like it came from Kisuke’s direction…

The guards spread out, starting to peer behind the pillars, check the doorways, all the while coming closer to Ichigo – but he’d already spotted the source, a shock of hair so brilliantly red it was like a flaming beacon in the dark.

“Psst, Renji!” he hissed, as softly as he dared.

Renji’s head came up. He scanned his surroundings, until he spotted Ichigo hiding behind the wall. He then had the audacity to shake his head and press a finger to his lips – excuse him, _who_ was the one who alerted the guards in the first place? Eh? Stupid pineapple-head –

“Hey, you! You shouldn’t be here!”

 _Damn_ it.

Ichigo stood up from his crouch, Zangetsu at the ready –

– an entire bust of some old fogey or the other, plinth and all, crashed into the guard. His companion swung around, alarmed, but what he didn’t see was the broken door flying towards him.

Ichigo stared at Kisuke, who was just casually dusting his cloak off. “So much for _Covert_ Ops.”

“I do hate having to resort to brute force,” Kisuke agreed breezily, “but I can’t deny its effectiveness at times. Who’s this?”

“Abarai Renji,” Renji introduced.

“Rukia’s best friend,” Ichigo said simultaneously.

Kisuke eyed Renji, like he was seriously considering whether he would stay back if he was ordered to. Ichigo gave a minute shake of his head, and refused to feel apologetic about the way Kisuke’s shoulders slumped, just a little.

“Well, come along then. We’ve got no time to waste; someone would realise these two are missing soon.”

They ran through the streets, stealth forgotten in favour of speed, until Kisuke again held up a hand in a clear signal for _stop_.

Ichigo flattened himself against the nearest wall automatically. Yoruichi’s shunpo method was really something all right, he wasn’t even breathing heavily, not like Renji who was panting like a steam engine next to him.

“I see Kuchiki-san,” Kisuke reported, melting out of the shadows and damn well nearly giving Ichigo a heart attack, what with the way he was leaning casually into Ichigo’s personal space like that so that Renji could hear his whisper.

“Great!” Renji was pushing himself upright, looking like he was about to charge in there right away.

Ichigo sighed, and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

The warm smile of gratitude made his stomach squirm pleasantly, which combined with the line of heat pressed against his side made him almost miss Kisuke’s next words. “Aizen-san is next to her,” Kisuke continued, tone markedly drier than before, “so please do hold your horses for the moment, Abarai-san.”

Ichigo could almost _see_ Renji deflate visibly. “Oh…”

Kisuke checked his watch. The crease in his brow deepened; Ichigo wanted to smooth it over with his thumb, but it seemed crass to do it with Renji right there.

He knocked his shoulder into Kisuke’s instead, and received a fleeting smile in response.

“It can’t be helped.” Kisuke snapped his fan – which, what, why did he even bring that? Where was he even keeping it?? – open, waving it around. “We’re going to have to do this fast.” His eyes darted over Renji’s countenance, looking for what Ichigo couldn’t figure out. He hoped he would have the chance to learn. “Abarai-san, are you a long-ranged or melee fighter?”

“Melee,” Renji responded predictably, patting Zabimaru by his hip.

Kisuke gave a distracted nod. Maybe he’d already noticed the sword? “All right. In that case, you’ll be stationed at the end of the street, keeping the rest of the guards away from helping Aizen. Understood?”

Renji straightened. “Yes, sir!”

Kisuke turned to Ichigo next. “I’ll draw Aizen off.” Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, and then thought the better of it. “Once he’s focused on me, your job is to run in there, cut Kuchiki-san free, and then get her to safety. Can you do that?”

He could tell Ichigo wanted to protest, Ichigo could tell that he could.

So instead, Ichigo said, “Yeah.”

“All right. Then, on my mark –”

Kisuke swung out of cover, a jet of red light flying from his index finger.

Ichigo didn’t wait to see if it would connect, bolting straight for Rukia, trusting Kisuke to keep Aizen suitably distracted.

“So you’ve come, Urahara Kisuke.”

He shuddered at the tone and ran faster. Had Aizen always sounded like that?

“You idiot!” Rukia snarled, the moment he got the duct tape off her mouth. “What are you doing here?!”

“Eh.” Ichigo rolled his shoulders, checking the rest of her restraints. “Is that any way to greet your rescue party?” he retorted, slicing through the ropes. “Instead of yelling at me, shouldn’t you be saying things like, _‘kyaaah, Ichigo, thank you so much!’_?”

For a moment, Rukia looked like she might bite _him_.

“Whatever,” Ichigo hastily backtracked. He didn’t want to get rabies or something. “Come on, let’s make a run for it.”

Rukia scowled furiously as he hoisted her up, complaining bitterly about being treated like a sack of potatoes, but it wasn’t like Ichigo could carry her any other way and still keep holding his sword.

“How are we supposed to get away from Aizen?” she demanded. “He’s a captain!”

Ichigo honestly didn’t see the point. “Then we’ll just defeat him and _then_ make a run for it!”

He thought Rukia might have kicked him; he honestly couldn’t tell, between the adrenaline and the way his reiatsu had instinctively thickened his skin, something every Quincy child had learnt to do since they could walk.

“ _How_?!” Rukia screeched in his ear.

Kisuke pretty much counted as a captain, didn’t he? If he had mastered his talent, the way Yoruichi-taichō was implying?

He glanced over at where he could hear the sound of swords clashing, unable to help himself.

“Whoever that is, he’s not doing so great!”

Ichigo’s heart skipped a beat.

“Change of plans,” he heard himself bark, as though from a distance away. “RENJI!”

From where he was duelling three guards simultaneously across the street, Renji’s head came up. “WHAT?!”

“ _CATCH_!”

And then Ichigo launched Rukia at him like a cannonball.

He could see Renji’s mouth moving in the shape of curses that he couldn’t hear over the sound of Rukia’s screaming – man, that woman had a pair of _lungs_ on her – see Renji whirl around and try to put some distance between himself and the guards so that Rukia wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire –

That wouldn’t do.

Without much conscious thought, Ichigo lifted up his now-free hand, and sent a jet of red light flying at each of the guards. If Aizen couldn’t dodge that, mere guards had no chance, which meant he was free to –

Both Kisuke and Aizen had stopped fighting, for some reason, and were just staring at him.

“What?” Ichigo snapped. Their twin stares were weirding him out, all right? “Never seen a spell before?”

Aizen grinned in a way that looked frankly disturbing. “I see that I should have persisted in my original plan of acquiring you.” His tone was possibly even _more_ disturbing. “Tell me, boy – how long did it take you to learn that spell?”

He had no idea, and what did it matter anyway? “Five milliseconds,” Ichigo threw in his face, before he realised that Kisuke was actually trying to subtly shake his head at him while Aizen wasn’t paying attention to him.

Oops.

“Impressive.” Aizen even _sounded_ impressed, but in a way that was so creepy, Ichigo felt like he needed a shower.

Mmm, a shower with Kisuke.

No, that wasn’t what he meant!

Ichigo readied Zangetsu, trying to get _those_ mental images out of his mind.

“I see,” Aizen said, apropos of nothing, and Ichigo would say something about _talking to oneself_ , except he –

– struck –

– and Kisuke was suddenly in front of him, a blood-red shield shattering with the sound of a thousand windchimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

_From his words, from the look in his eyes, I can feel Ichigo’s strength flowing into me._

“We have to help them.”

They were hiding behind one of the buildings, peeking out around the corner to watch the ongoing fight. It was a compromise, because Rukia had kicked Renji in the belly when he tried to carry her, and _his_ abs weren’t made of steel or something like Ichigo’s were.

Seriously, her foot still hurt, and he didn’t even _notice_!

Renji swung his head around to gape at her like a particularly unattractive baboon. “ _How_?!” he hissed. “You can’t even _walk_!”

Rukia scowled even harder at the reminder, massaging the deep rope indentations on her legs.

But she didn’t need her legs to cast.

Aizen would _rue_ the day he underestimated a Kuchiki, Academy student or not.

“Like this,” she snapped, thrusting her hands out, forming a triangle window with her fingers. She could feel the frost creeping up her arms, knew that she shouldn’t hold it for too long or she’d run the risk of frostbite, but she had to get it right in one try, had to aim –

“Tsugi no mae, Hakuren!”

A wave of snow blasted from her palms, sweeping across the empty street, trailing ice crystals in their wake. She had the vicious pleasure of seeing Aizen freeze in place, frost racing up his legs, right before he turned and looked right at her.

“Uh oh,” Renji muttered.

Maybe she should have thought this through better.

“And now,” Aizen drawled, raising his own sword, “what do you expect to do after binding me with such a flimsy spell?”

Rukia bristled, but before she could say anything, it was the weird blond in shopkeeper garb who answered.

“Such a flimsy spell?” he echoed, shifting his own stance, stabbing a finger at Aizen. “Well then, let’s see how many of these flimsy things you can take! Rikujōkōrō!”

That… that was the sixty-first binding spell, wasn’t it?

“Bakudō #63, Sajō Sabaku!”

_Two level-sixties spells without an incantation?!_

Before Rukia could even react, the shopkeeper had already drawn his arm back, keeping his elbow elevated. “Bakudō #79, Kuyō Shibari!”

Who… who was – where did Ichigo _find_ him? She had never seen this sort of casting speed before, not even from her own brother.

And now he was starting up a chant Rukia had never read about before; which, given that he could cast a full-powered level 79 binding spell without a sweat, meant this had to be… no, this didn’t sound like any of the cannon-blast type spells… which meant…

Level ninety?

A level nineties spell?

Those – those weren’t even taught to normal shinigami! But he wasn’t a captain either, or Rukia would’ve recognised him, since all Gotei captains’ identities and faces were public knowledge.

“Do you think I’ll let you?” Aizen demanded. Whatever it was, _Aizen_ clearly recognised it, and he didn’t sound like he liked it. “I can easily break free –”

He _talked_ far too much.

“Some no mai, Tsukishiro!”

Talking, meant that he wasn’t looking at her, and she would make him _rue_ the day he called Sode no Shirayuki _pathetic_.

An icicle surged out of the ground from under his feet, encasing him in an instant.

Well, that certainly shut him up all right.

Rukia panted heavily. She _might_ have overdone it a little, which was the only reason why she didn’t punch Renji when he tipped his shoulder against hers, propping her up. She’d given them an opening. It was up to _them_ to follow-up now.

She could see Ichigo raising his sword, see the power gathering around him –

– the shopkeeper grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him away in a blur of shunpo –

“ _SHUNKO!_ ”

Rukia had absolutely no idea what just happened; she was too busy trying not to die, hanging over Renji’s shoulder blasting the biggest pieces of debris away – did something… how many buildings had just collapsed??

They crashed onto the roof of what used to some building or the other (the cafeteria, maybe?), and Rukia dragged herself up, trying to figure out what was going on now. She couldn’t hear any fighting going on, which could either indicate the best-case scenario, or the worst – and either way, she had to be prepared.

Byakuya-nii-sama had to be coming.

Someone landed on her other side, and she nearly blasted him with a Sōkatsui before she realised it was just Ichigo.

“What. The hell?” Renji demanded, before she could shout at Ichigo for his idiocy. He coughed violently, spitting out ash and blood.

Ichigo glanced over at him, probably because Renji sounded like he was hacking up a lung. “Yoruichi-san,” he summarised cryptically, and went back to watching a spot in the distance.

“The captain of the Second?” Well… that would explain…

“That doesn’t explain anything at all!” she yelled.

Ichigo rolled his eyes.

Even assuming that was indeed who he’d meant… “What’s she doing here? How did she get through Las Noches? How did she even know we’re here?!”

“Er,” Ichigo said, rubbing at his ear. He darted a quick look to the side, for some reason. “Kisuke, Kisuke, and Kisuke?”

If she had the energy to, Rukia would’ve punched him.

She turned to watch where Ichigo was staring at, her eyes quickly picking out the details now that the dust was finally clearing.

There was a figure crouched at the epicentre of all that debris, and from this far away Rukia couldn’t see much.

“It’s over, Aizen.”

That was definitely Yoruichi-taichō’s voice, though, loud and carrying in a way that always made nii-sama sniff disapprovingly. “Your barrier is down, the rest of the Gotei are surrounding you as we speak. Give up.”

They managed to bring down Las Noches so fast? Rukia could have cheered. So _much_ for Aizen’s impenetrable barrier and careful scouting of the Kidō Corps’ capabilities!

Seriously, for a captain, he really monologued too much.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the gentle night breeze.

Rukia could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, but nothing was even _moving_ –

“Yoruichi-san _get out of there now_!”

At the same time –

“GETSUGA TENSHŌ!”

Shiba Isshin’s legendary moon-splitter scythed through the collapsed buildings like a knife through butter, sending plumes of ash and dust all over the place. Again.

Rukia turned to ask Ichigo if he could see anything, and _squeaked_ when she realised that somehow, in the span of a blink, Ichigo had been replaced by Yoruichi-taichō.

She swiped at a cut on her cheek, smearing the blood with her thumb. “Che.”

If it was Ichigo, Rukia could’ve interrogated him, but she couldn’t just go up to a _captain_ and ask her what was going on.

Was it over?

Was the Gotei really here?

“Aizen Sōsuke,” boomed the Captain-Commander, and Rukia had never been so glad to hear his voice before in her _life_. “You are hereby under arrest.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kisuke’s shoulders didn’t relax until Aizen was led away in chains, three captains – including Kyōraku Shunsui, whom Ichigo could whole-heartedly agree was highly unlikely to be a secret traitor in the making – keeping a wary eye on him at all times.

Ichigo bumped their shoulders together. Kisuke could take it as a gesture of companionship, if he wanted, or –

Or he could shake his head, blinking as though he was coming out of a deep reverie. That worked, too.

“I’m sorry,” Kisuke said instantly. “Sorry, it just…” he waved a hand vaguely.

Yeah. Yeah, Ichigo could sympathise, a little bit.

“It’s been a crazy night.”

“Yes,” Kisuke agreed slowly, eyes still darting to and fro, never quite settling. His expression suddenly firmed, and Ichigo turned to look in that direction, only to come face-to-face with the Captain-Commander.

“Urahara Kisuke.”

“Sōtaichō-dono,” Kisuke greeted. His gaze slid over to Ichigo, equal parts resigned and apologetic, and Ichigo could take a hint.

“Duty calls, I get it.” Ichigo waved a hand, stepping away. He couldn’t fault Kisuke for doing his actual job, not without sounding like a damned hypocrite. “Tomorrow at six, at the shop, work for you?”


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo bit his lip, peeking out from behind the statue. He might not be able to make it after all.

Aizen used to teach a calligraphy class at the Academy, and his office was now being searched for any clues or further traps. With the ongoing investigation, most of the entrances to the school were now barricaded. It normally wouldn’t have been a problem, except…

“Kurosaki-kun! Heeey, Kurosaki-kun!!”

His fanclub had, apparently, doubled in size in the span of one night.

Inoue had tried explaining it to him, but apparently what happened was that everyone in Rukia’s fanclub wanted to thank him for rescuing their princess, and so they were _all_ stalking him now. At least half the school was now on his tail.

“Kurosaki! Oy!”

Ichigo swung around at the surprisingly familiar voice. “Renji?”

“Over here!”

Well, it was as good a hiding place as any. Ichigo dove into the closet Renji was crouched in, and not a moment too soon before the thundering stampede went past.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Renji coughed, eyes skittering over Ichigo’s shoulder. “Uh, so. Rukia’s over at the East entrance, and the alert for her location should be going through –” he checked his phone “– right about now.”

On cue, Renji’s phone vibrated with an incoming text message. Even upside-down, though, Ichigo could read the first line.

“ _You’re_ the president of Rukia’s fanclub?!”

“Shut up,” Renji muttered, his face turning a shade that matched his hair. “It’s an accident, okay? _A total misunderstanding_.”

“Right.” Ichigo really didn’t want to know how that had happened. “So, why did you drag me into a closet to tell me that?”

Renji’s brows creased. “To… let you know that she’ll be on the other side of school? Since I doubt you subscribe and all.”

“… uh huh?”

The confusion rapidly turned disbelieving. “To lure them away from you, obviously.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“She figured she owed you one.”

They both shut up again as the stampede went past, this time in the opposite direction.

“Tell her thanks for me,” Ichigo called back, already swinging himself out of the closet.

He had a date to make.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Sorry I’m late!” Ichigo pelted through the doors, bending forwards to prop his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath after the mad dash through town.

He looked up when there was no response from Kisuke.

The front counter was empty.

Ichigo stared.

The front counter was _never_ empty.

His hand dropped to the sword strapped to his waist, his mind working in overdrive, skipping through a hundred scenarios, each worse than the last.

Maybe Aizen got out of Mugen and came for revenge. Maybe one of Aizen’s accomplices – whom they hadn’t found yet – came for revenge. Maybe Kisuke was tapped for some top-secret mission and didn’t get a chance to tell Ichigo. Maybe Kisuke changed his mind about the date. Maybe –

– maybe he was coming out of the back of the shop, dressed in… _holy shit_.

Okay. Okay, he knew the blond had to have muscles, he’d even _felt_ some of those muscles, but. But.

_Nnngh._

“Kurosaki-san? Earth to Kurosaki-san?”

Ichigo refocused on the stupid paper fan waving in his face, swatting it aside. The annoyance made it easier to bark out, “If you want to get laid you’d best start using Ichigo.”

There was a surprised flutter, and then Kisuke drawled, voice dropping a full register, “As you wish, _I-chi-go~_ ”

His brain just wasn’t computing, but the familiar teasing tone was something he could handle even on autopilot. “Idiot,” Ichigo muttered. “Where did you go? I thought you’d gotten kidnapped or something.”

Kisuke sent a pointed look at the hand still hovering over Zangetsu’s hilt. “Please refrain from destroying any more buildings; I’m not sure there’ll be enough left of this town.”

Ichigo snorted. “As if you care about the destruction of property,” he retorted, thinking of what happened yesterday. Some of that structural damage had definitely been Kisuke’s.

The fan fluttered again. “I’m very concerned about the destruction of property!” Kisuke even _looked_ concerned. “I’m concerned about its effects on my disposable income!”

“You mean your wallet,” deadpanned Ichigo.

“Yes, isn’t that what I just said?”

Really, there was just no arguing with this man. Ichigo shook his head, but without the familiarity of the banter to ground him, his gaze just kept getting caught on the fact that Kisuke was dressed… well, not up, but Ichigo wouldn’t call it _down_ either.

“I didn’t even know you _owned_ casual wear.”

Kisuke plucked at the collar of his polo shirt, looking vaguely rueful. “Did you think my closet had nothing but samue? Really, did you think I live in the Edo Period or something?”

Whatever the case, Ichigo was honestly, truly glad. Those jeans fit his legs like a glove.

He licked his lips.

Kisuke’s eyes dropped lower, caught by the action, and the sudden flare of molten heat in his gaze made butterflies squirm in Ichigo’s belly.

He stepped closer, hand coming up to cup Kisuke’s unshaven cheek, and drew the blond into a kiss.

Kisuke responded gratifyingly enthusiastically, winding one hand into Ichigo’s hair and the other landing on his shoulder, pulling him closer, as if Ichigo had any inclination of moving away.

Instead, it was Kisuke who broke the kiss first.

“Just let me,” he gasped, voice hoarse and pupils blown wide. “I need to –” He staggered a little, putting a hand on the counter to steady himself. Ichigo should probably be surprised when the cash machine turned out to be some kind of spy tech, judging by the little panel that popped up when Kisuke pressed several of the keys, but really, he was far too turned on to be appropriately in awe.

He reached down, adjusting himself a little.

Kisuke cursed and stabbed at what looked like the backspace button with violent intent, holding it down.

Ichigo palmed himself through his jeans, but damn, his resolve was fracturing. What did Yoruichi say again – bend him over the counter, was it?

Kisuke uttered an inarticulate growl, and Ichigo found himself shoved up against the shelf, a tongue licking insistently into his mouth. He swore, clamping his thighs reflexively down on Kisuke’s thigh, and _oh_ , that felt really good.

But it wasn’t enough, now that they were so close, now that _he_ was so close.

Ichigo fumbled at Kisuke’s jeans, trying to pop the button open one-handed. Kisuke didn’t seem interested in helping him, more concerned with sliding his hands up Ichigo’s T-shirt, smoothing his palms down Ichigo’s back in broad sweeps that made Ichigo’s knees go weak, his toes curling.

Thank goodness Kisuke was already holding him up against the shelf, and he was doing it like it was _effortless_.

Ichigo was rapidly coming to find that his cock apparently really, _really_ liked that.

“Kisuke,” he warned, voice hitching on a moan as Kisuke shifted his thigh again. “ _Kisuke_ , I’m –”

The doors to the Shōten slammed open.

Ichigo squeaked, and would have fallen if Kisuke wasn’t still holding him up. “What –”

“What.” Kisuke’s voice was perfectly even. “The _FUCK_. Yoruichi-san.”

Kisuke’s shoulder was blocking most of his vision, but Ichigo could still hear Yoruichi’s loud laughter, followed by sounds of her bustling across the shop. There was the rustle of a great many plastic bags, and the dull thuds of them hitting the counter one by one.

“Thought you might be too busy to get to the _dinner_ part of your date, so I took the liberty of getting you two takeaway!”

Could he punch a captain in the face?

Kisuke seemed to be thinking along the same lines, given the precise, deliberate way he was inhaling and exhaling.

“Please leave before I throw you out.”

She laughed, sounding absurdly pleased with herself, but judging by the noise she was at least taking him seriously.

“Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Ichigo could _hear_ the wink in her tone.

The doors slammed shut again.

There was a long, long silence.

Kisuke stepped back, carefully lowering Ichigo onto the floor again. His hair was a complete mess, his lips swollen a shiny red, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Ichigo.

Ichigo wanted to kiss him again.

“We should… eat.”

“Yes,” agreed Kisuke, faintly. He didn’t move.

“Before the food gets cold.”

“Would be a shame.”

Ichigo exhaled, slowly, counting to ten inside his head, until he no longer felt like he wanted to shove Kisuke onto the tatami mats and take him right there.

“Food, and then your bedroom,” he insisted firmly.


	5. Epilogue

Had he known that a promotion would have entailed _so much paperwork_ , he might have turned it down in the first place. How in the world did Yoruichi make captaincy look so easy?

Oh, right. Because Suì-Fēng did the lion’s share of Division Two’s administrative work. Maybe he should look into hiring a personal assistant too.

“Absolutely not,” said Ichigo when he brought the matter up.

Kisuke pouted.

~*~*~*~*~*~

But all good things must come to an end.

All things said and done, Ichigo was scheduled to graduate that spring. He toyed with the idea of staying the full six years to have another two years with Kisuke, but everybody from his mother to Kisuke himself vetoed that idea.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Kisuke soothed, massaging the tension out of Ichigo’s shoulders. “It’s not like we’re breaking up or anything.”

Ichigo rolled over in bed, eyeing him suspiciously. “You had better not,” he warned.

He even had a Division all picked out and everything – Ukitake had asked for both him and Rukia, apparently, but they’d be the only ones graduating early from their batch. Inoue was now debating between the Kidō Corps and the Fourth like she’d originally planned, but she and the rest still had at least one more year to go.

Fingers ran through his hair.

“Go to sleep, Ichigo.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

For all its hype, Central HQ was less impressive than Ichigo thought it would be.

Of course, it could also be the orientation the new recruits were all forced to attend at the crack of dawn, held by an officer who was far too peppy for the hour.

He could see Rukia fingering her own sword out of the corner of his eye.

“– and over here we have the offices of Division Two, the Covert Ops,” their tour guide was saying, gesturing into yet another bland office filled with cubicles, but Ichigo’s attention was no longer on her.

“What are _you_ doing here?!” he accused, stabbing a finger at the face he _never_ expected to see, not here.

Kisuke blinked at him, several folders still tucked under his arm.

The frozen tableau was only broken by one of the unseated officers coming up with an armful of arch files. “Where should we put these, Lieutenant Urahara?”

He was accompanied by several other officers, and Ichigo could even see the top of that damned cash machine sticking out of one of the boxes.

It looked horribly like Kisuke was _moving in_.

“What –” he began dangerously.

“Ehehe…” Kisuke scratched at the back of his neck. “Surprise?”

Ichigo wanted to punch him in the stupid face, and knock that stupid hat off his head, and kiss that stupid smirk off his mouth.

But they were in public, so he’d settle for loud yelling, property damage, and accidentally outing himself in front of the entire division on his first day.

(He wouldn’t have Kisuke any other way.)

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap! :D hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> [cywscross's UraIchi Discord server](https://discordapp.com/invite/ADFnKTZ#_=_) | [Starrie's server](https://discord.gg/8yJVmbD) | [Tumblr](http://starriewolf.tumblr.com)


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